


Reanimator

by JessKo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1910s, Blood and Injury, Dorks in Love, Gothic Horror AU, Grave Robbing in the Name of Science and Other Such Shenanigans, Horror, Lovecraft but it’s GAY AF, M/M, Raising the Dead, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2020-04-05 19:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessKo/pseuds/JessKo
Summary: When reflecting on all that has occurred in life to bring me to my current station, there is one string of events that stands out in my memory. It is with both affection, and terror, that I look back on these incidents. If you will believe my word to be truth or not is for you to decide, but I feel it would be best to simply begin my story when he entered my life, as all events prior to this had been of the most ordinary nature.Or, Eli and Thrawn raise some hell, and the dead.





	1. I.

When reflecting on all that has occurred in life to bring me to my current station, there is one string of events that stands out in my memory. It is with both affection, and terror, that I look back on these incidents. If you will believe my word to be truth or not is for you to decide, but I feel it would be best to simply begin my story when he entered my life, as all events prior to this had been of the most ordinary nature.

I had been studying at the Myomar University Medical School for many years, preparing to finish my course of study, when I was assigned to my dormitory for my final year. The building was one I had lived in for much of my time here at the University, but this room would prove to house the most unusual of inhabitants. Being told I would be roommates with a transfer student from a school out of country was not nearly warning enough for what I found unpacking a single suitcase onto the lower bunk in our room on the second floor of the dormitory hall.

At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. With his back faced towards me as I entered, all I perceived was a tall man with raven hair pulled back neatly, quietly at work hunched over his meager possessions. I offered a short greeting, announcing my entry in case he had not noticed the sound of the door opening. Stopping his work, the man turned to face me, and offered his name and a hand.

A hand that was blue, attached to a being with eyes of crimson red, and a facial structure unlike any I had experienced before. His accent was also entirely foreign to me, and in my surprise, I allowed my response to carry the heavy drawl of my home state which I normally took great care to minimize. Taking the man’s hand, who called himself Mitth’raw’nuruodo, I noted an icy, almost corpse like chill to his dry skin. I informed him of my own name, Eli Vanto, and tossed my own luggage onto the top bunk, accepting my fate yet again to spend winter nights in the line of fire from the high window’s icy draft.

Testing my name in his strange accent, I distinctly recall finding his slow timbre to be enchanting, and despite some incredible misgivings, a small seed of attraction planted itself in my heart. In contrast to my initial reaction to Mitth’raw’nuruodo, or Thrawn as he would ask to be called, I soon realized the azure hue of his skin was as lovely to me as the summer sky, and his voice unique to just this one being in all the universe.

Being a man of twenty some years, and never having an interest in things as abstract as attraction or romance, these thoughts felt as entirely foreign as the man before me.  And, similarly, they were not entirely unwanted either. It was fairly soon in the semester that I earned Thrawn’s trust, long hours he had spent alone quickly became time that I spent at his side. We would discuss topics relating to our medical studies, but one subject in particular seemed to fascinate the man, that being the process of life itself. I would never fully comprehend his interpretation of living, but he tried to paint the picture of his views to me. Thrawn claimed that life was nothing more than a chemical process, elements working within the skin of a being to turn the gears of functioning. Things like a soul being what brought flesh and bone to life was simply invented by  those too simple to understand his revelation of “basic elementary science”.

To further his theories, Thrawn turned to practical experimentation. It was now that I began to question my affections, but Thrawn’s charm was inescapable, as was my naïve need to place myself near to him. These experiments started with animals. Rats, rabbits, these sorts of things that the university could provide in large amounts with few questions asked. In these experiments, Thrawn would create a chemical solution intended to reanimate the recently deceased. Quickly, it was apparent to us that different species of animals required alternative solutions for it to be a success. Animals could not prove much more than the reinstitution of mechanical functions within a body, and Thrawn soon felt that it was time to move onto a larger scale.

Presenting his case to experiment on a human cadaver, the other professors were skeptical. The president of the university himself, President Palpatine, even doubted Thrawn’s work despite our proven results with the creatures. Denied access to our desired subject, Thrawn suggested an alternative solution. Wanting to impress the object of my attention, I agreed and together we purchased the abandoned Bridger farmhouse, located far enough away from any intruding neighbors and just on the edge of the Ascendant burial field. More perfect conditions could not have been available to us.

With the other professors now slowly denying any laboratory access to the both of us, Thrawn and myself began sneaking out equipment and supplies that could not be purchased in town, stowing it all away in the cellar of the farmhouse to create a sort of laboratory of our own. Once settled in, our experimentation could continue, however the lack of an incinerator lead to many trips to Ascendant field in the earliest morning hours to bury any evidence of our work.

We began to follow the death notices in the local paper like hawks, just waiting for an ideal case for our next test. Finally, after several weeks, something was posted that caught Thrawn’s eye. A young man by the name of Yogar Lyste had fallen from a bridge and drowned in the river below, body found that same day and now he was to be buried in Ascendant field, just behind our farmhouse. Thrawn had sent me out at noon to locate the grave, and then at midnight I lead my associate to it with spades and an oil lamp in tow. Unearthing the body was a strenuous task, but Thrawn showed no sign of exhaustion as we lifted the wooden coffin from the earth. Stuffing the poor lad’s body into a canvas sack, we then reburied the coffin, sure to pat down the soil so that it did not appear that the grave had been tampered with.

Dragging the body behind me, I soon fell behind Thrawn’s pace, unable to keep up with his long strides. Realizing I had fallen back, Thrawn stopped, allowing me to catch up, and then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Do you need some assistance?” Thrawn asked quietly, the lantern casting a flickering light onto his features. Stopped dead in my tracks, I looked up into Thrawn’s eyes, pausing to catch my breath before responding.

“Yes, please.” I said, still a bit dazed from the whole experience. One could say that we were officially grave robbers like those in children’s tales. Part of me found humor in this comparison, thinking of Thrawn as a figure from the legends of my youth. But this was a thought for another time as now there was a more pressing matter at hand, or rather, in the sack trailing behind me.

In one motion, Thrawn took the bag from my hands and slung the limp body over his broad shoulder. I instantly felt a pang of guilt at my request, seeing the soil and mess from the road fall onto Thrawn’s pristine white shirt. He had folded the sleeves up to his forearms to protect the fabric from our digging, but there was no escaping the muck now falling from the disturbed canvas. The man did not seem to mind, however, urging me forward with a pat on my back and slight grin. I quickly learned to cherish any sort of physical emotion Thrawn portrayed as such displays were few indeed, and all were subtle in nature.  

Once we arrived again to our cellar laboratory, Thrawn set the sack down on the wooden table set in the center of the room, hanging the oil lamp above it. At I pulled at the end of the sack, Thrawn almost reverently extracted the body held within. Setting the canvas aside, I dared to look upon our stolen cadaver. One of Lyste’s eyes had rolled open, and without thought I lowered the lid back down to give the body some semblance of a peaceful appearance. Thrawn scoffed at my efforts, claiming that soon enough, the eyes would snap back open of their own volition.

Believing in Thrawn’s words, I worked as any assistant might in an ordinary laboratory setting, adjusting the flame of our burner and fetching the needed chemicals for Thrawn’s solution. Thrawn had quickly recognized my quick ability with numbers and would speak out long strings of arithmetic for me to solve so that he may continue his calculations and preparations. After a long while, and many small adjustments, Thrawn was finally satisfied with his solution and pulled it into a long syringe, then lining the fresh needle up with the corpse’s wrist.

Slowly, Thrawn injected Lyste with the solution as I watched, notebook and pen in hand ready to take notes on my observations. Removing the syringe once empty, Thrawn stepped back to watch the body, waiting for his desired revitalization to occur. Periodically checking for a heartbeat, Thrawn did nothing but stand beside our makeshift dissection table.

After an hour had passed, Thrawn turned to the rest of his solution, murmuring something about imbalances in the formula. He called on me to follow him upstairs to consult our previous notes, perhaps there was something we had missed. It was almost relieving to leave the dank cellar, lighting a candle with which to read by off the lamp before facing the creaking stairs out of the laboratory. Pouring through several notebooks worth of notes quickly is a near impossible task, and soon even Thrawn was defeated. I slumped back, laying down on the rug where pages upon pages of scrawled upon pages had been spread out with a sigh. Thrawn set down the book he had been studying and leaned back on an elbow, turning his body to face me.

“Perhaps the body was not fresh enough, rather than the solution being incorrect.” He offered. All I could do was shrug.

“I guess. Might have already started decomposing on the inside before we got it.” I suggested, looking at the ceiling where the candlelight bounced through the rafters and cobwebs.

“The brain in particular. Yes, if the brain is not fully intact there is no way for the body to function regardless of my efforts.” Concluded Thrawn. I realized that his voice was closer and moved my attention to his source. Glassy eyed, Thrawn’s face was hovering just a few inches away from my own. Finding myself rendered mute in his presence, all I could do was gaze up at his lightly furrowed brow. In an instant, Thrawn’s eyes flicked down to peer into my own, and his expression softened.

“You believe this will work, don’t you Eli?” He asked quietly, in a tone that just begged for affirmation.

I did not reply quickly. Rather, I mulled over all our work over the past months. Did I believe in this scheme, Thrawn’s reanimation of the dead through chemistry? Sure, it had allowed small creatures to continue their mindless scrabbling about, but to bring a sane human back from passing on?

Well, we had not proved that it can not happen.

“I do, Thrawn.” I replied, perhaps a bit too confidently.

Without any warning, Thrawn slipped an arm beneath the small of my back and pulled me against him, turning me onto my side. Our noses touching, I exhaled deeply, feeling something deep within me awaken. Leaning in, I kissed him, a chaste touch of the lips. Neither of us closed our eyes, the fire burning within, and reflecting off them too enchanting to ignore. Heat quickly rose to my cheeks as Thrawn stared at and within me, his thin lips slightly parted.

What happened next would be the beginning of a lifelong haunting.

Cutting through the tension between us came a cry I can only describe as being all the demons of hell released from the infernos below, the screams of the damned cutting through to our own realm. Scrambling to collect whatever notes we could, we burst through the window of the farmhouse and bolted back to the dormitory. In our rush, I believe that I knocked over the candle illuminating our work, or at least this is what I tell myself. The following day, after spending a night petrified sleeplessly in our bunks, the newspaper told of the Bridger farmhouse burning to the ground mysteriously. To make matters worse, mentioned unrelatedly by the paper, was that the freshly covered grave of Yogar Lyste had been disturbed. A morning witness claimed the site looked as if it had been clawed at, dug at as a hog roots around in the dirt. 

Exchanging a worried glance, Thrawn reassured me that we had been careful in our restoration of the grave to its original state, that this had to be coincidence. I explained my theory that perhaps I had tipped the candle onto the flammable rug in our hurry to escape. As for the screech, that was something neither of us could account for besides, perhaps, the solution had worked, but on a delay.

Taking note of this, Thrawn already began making adjustments in his solution formula, and swearing that the next body would be much fresher than Yogar Lyste’s had been. Then, the experiment would be successful and coherent life would be pulled from a deceased vessel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have read a lot of Lovecraft, you might have realized this is similar to his own story of reanimation. I'm taking many cues from Lovecraft's work, but intend this to be more than just a retelling with the Star Wars characters we know and love as I hope this beginning has shown.
> 
> A big thanks to badgerandk for being a wonderful beta, and thank you for reading!


	2. II.

The typhoid fever struck hardly a week after Thrawn and I finished our studies, earning our degrees and setting straight to work in a local clinic while beginning postgraduate work. The hours were long, more patients passing than healed, and the plague spreading faster than beds could be made available. Further, our studies only grew in intensity, even Thrawn, for whom the information came so easily, was putting in extra time at the library to pass his exams. Yet, in all this chaos, we still found time for our special experiments. 

After the occurrences regarding the last human specimen, we had decided to step back and return to animal tests in the privacy of our dormitory. Working our way up from mice and rabbits, we found an ideal subject in the form of the campus cat. The creature had feasted on an unattended picnic and died from the contents. Collecting the body was the simple part, as our department is where the cremation facilities are. It was the experimentation that proved more difficult as while Thrawn prepared the solution I was tasked with pumping all toxins from the creature’s stomach.

With limited resources in our makeshift dorm room laboratory, I had to use tubing and the natural vacuum suction of my own mouth to painstakingly drain the being. With the task finally complete, Thrawn administered the solution. Within a few seconds, whiskers twitched on the calico’s face, and the ears flattened back. Raising itself to its paws, the cat hissed something awful before darting out of our carelessly open window.

I swore, darting towards the window while Thrawn bolted from room and down the stars. A woman’s scream came from below and I peered through the window, careful to not be seen, to find the Dorm Supervisor, Maketh Tua, running away from a calico in pursuit. With an empty stomach, I am sure the cat felt desperate enough to hunt anything. Luckily, Thrawn was right on its tail and was able to shoo the feline away and into the bushes.

“What in the blazes was that?” Maketh exclaimed. “You have some explaining to do, sir!”

“I believe it had climbed a tree and simply fell out at a most inopportune moment.” Thrawn replied, trying to sound casual.

Maketh shook her head, waving her arms dramatically. “That is not what I meant, as strange as a cat falling from the sky is. As of a few hours ago, Callie was slated to be cremated and now here she is, chasing after me!”

“Callie?”

“That is her name. She got into my things. I had a packet of sodium arsenite in my bag to apply to the gardens and she ate it all up. Poor thing. But… Somehow, now she’s back!”

“Perhaps it is merely an offspring of our… Callie.” Thrawn offered, the name not rolling quite naturally off his tongue.

“Perhaps. Good day, then.” Maketh seemed to just want to walk away from this whole thing with the somewhat logical explanation provided, which is fair. I would probably have done the same in her position. 

Thrawn returned to the dorm then, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow. The summer had not only proved to be busy, but also swelteringly hot. The next day, the president of the university himself approached us after class. President Palpatine had been quite occupied with the epidemic as well, many of the locals calling him a saint for how much time he spent leading the efforts against typhoid. In fact, I believe he was working too hard, his face aging quickly from lack of sleep and overexertion.

“Gentleman,” The President began, “Your dorm supervisor has reported quite the incident.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but something in the President’s gaze stopped me. For all that wear on his face, he still had a strong energy about him. The sort of air some might consider borderline mind control for how he is able to command the space around him.

“Please walk with me, now.”

The President did not skirt around the point. We would have to surrender all materials not authorized for the dormitories and should he find out about another experiment of ours, we would both be expelled. Thrawn tried to take full blame for the experiment, but the President would not be persuaded. As we parted ways, the President pulled me aside.

“I would be wary of getting too close to Mr. Thrawn, Mr. Vanto.” He said softly, with a wicked glint in his eyes, the shadow his hat cast making his face seem almost eerie. “It is dangerous to play with forces we can not comprehend.”

“I understand, sir.”

President Palpatine smiled then, exposing yellowed teeth. “Good lad. Be sure to submit a full record of what you surrender. I will personally see that it is checked for accuracy.”

Catching back up to Thrawn, it felt as if I had to shake the President’s aura from my being. “For all the good Palpatine is doing, he can be incredibly unsettling.”

“He is overworked and meddling in matters that ought to be far below his sight.” Thrawn lamented. He did not sound all to bothered by this, however. Then taking ourselves back to the dorm building, Tua was waiting for us at the steps. 

“I want to see every bit of madness out of my building.” She commented as we passed.

“Yes, ma’am.” We both replied in unison, having a small giggle as we ascended the steps. While boxing up the supplies we had fought quite hard to smuggle into our dorm, I could not help but frown, yet Thrawn wore an entirely different expression.

“What is so funny?” I asked, curious.

Thrawn looked up to me, shaking his head slightly. “Do you not see it?”

“See what exactly?”

“Palpatine now thinks that a threat of expulsion and confiscating our equipment will prevent us from experimentation.”

“That is precisely the situation, Thrawn. How are we going to do anything without tools and solutions?”

“We will go into the dissection laboratory and work there.”

Now it was my turn to shake my head. “Do you have the fever now? That is insanity, walking straight into the lion’s den!”

Thrawn stepped around the boxes on the floor, approaching and placing an arm around my shoulders, leaning on the desk beside me. “He would never expect us to go straight into the heart of danger. Rather, he will keep a close watch on equipment supply numbers.”

“But Thrawn, we are going to be using those specimens, no?”

“I never said we were going to change the numbers.”

Suddenly it clicked. We could simply put in a replacement specimen to replace what we use. The corners of my lips curled up, and Thrawn leaned over to plant a kiss to my temple. In that moment, I realized just how long it had been since we had even held each other, the summer hardly allowing us time to sleep and eat. Leaning into the touch, I placed my hand at his lower back, snaking up under his black waistcoat. The silken interior was surprisingly cool against my skin. Cool from sweat, I was certain. 

I could also care less, pulling Thrawn to stand in front of me for a proper kiss. Standing on my toes, I held his lower lip between my own, not breaking a passionate stare until his dark, feathery eyelashes fluttered shut over crimson irises. With my other hand, I traced the shape of his cheek, both alien and alluring in its harshness, delicate freckles populating a smooth blue expanse. 

Thrawn’s own grip traveled along my shoulders and around my neck, deftly untying my tie and releasing the top button of my shirt. Snaking my hand around, I began on the closure of his waistcoat, sliding the fabric from broad shoulders. Our shirts and trousers carpeting the floor, we embraced each other fully, taking full advantage of the precious period of freedom we were granted then.

My ankles were tangled in the fabric below us as the clock struck five, Thrawn moving over then, content to lean at my side with an arm draped around me. I lay my head on his chest then, peering over his sculpted form to the mess around us.

“We should finish before sundown.” Thrawn added softly, mussing my hair further with long blue fingers.

“I agree, Maketh will want to run her inventory at a humane hour.”

Pulling ourselves back together, we tackled the rest of the packing, delivering it all to the front stoop for the Supervisor to pour over with the inventory I prepared. She seemed disheartened at the sheer mass of items we brought down, box after box coming down the stairs to add to the lineup.

Taking ourselves then to the clinic for an evening shift, we exited through the rear afterwords, the scent of death and illness lingering on our rumpled clothes. Not bothering to remove my apron, I assisted Thrawn in lifting the nearest, and freshest, corpse. The clinic had begun simply piling bodies in the alley for the coroner to pick up come morning. This was not good for us initially, as the heat would decay the already weak corpses, unsuitable for our purposes. But just fine for the university supply as a stand in. 

A body swap later the two of us had a well-preserved body set before us on the metal table of the dissection lab. Looking at the toe tag, I read it aloud. “C. Slavin. Cause of death: heat stroke. Looks like he died… This morning. Fortune has smiled on us.” Removing the tag, I slipped it onto our own poor soul and closed the door on the morgue. 

Thrawn simply nodded, hard at work preparing a modified solution. “Eli, please administer a saline IV, we must ensure he is properly hydrated.” Getting to work, I did as asked, finding the arm of this corpse to be chillingly similar to those of the typhoid patients at the clinic.

“Ready.” Thrawn announced quietly, approaching with a filled syringe, plunging it deep into the other arm to apply the solution. And then, we waited, our breaths even sounding loud against the silence of the body before us. 

Then, the man’s eyes snapped open, staring ahead in horror, glassy yet afraid. His mouth opened in a silent scream. 

The sound of a key slotting into the lock of the laboratory’s door pierced through the stillness around us, Thrawn lunging for the body as I dragged opened the heavy door to the incinerator. Our success flung inside, I shut the door as quietly as possible and followed Thrawn into the shadows. 

It was hard to see from my hiding place, but I was able to make out the figure of a man peering into the laboratory, his gaze sweeping the area before leaving, locking the door behind him.

Exhaling a held breath, I slumped against Thrawn. “That was too close.” I whispered.

“ _ We _ were so close…” He sighed, helping me rise to my feet. “It is simply not fresh enough. The heat of the day must have gotten to the body.”

“Probably.” I agree, stepping out into the warm room. Thrawn placed a hand on the incinerator door, feeling the heat of the silent fire inside. There was no evidence now. “Let’s go back to the dorm. If we stay out too late, Tua will get suspicious.” 

After nearly being caught, Thrawn did not suggest sneaking into the laboratory again, and I was secretly glad to finally replace the extracurricular research in dead bodies with close study of a live one. It might have simply been the heat of the summer, but times alone were unbearable with any barriers on our skin, blocking the contact between us.  

In August, the typhoid epidemic had reached its peak, and triple shifts at the clinic were running us both ragged, only coming back to the dorm for sleep and meals. All but one of our classes had been suspended so that students could assist with the ill, and President Palpatine continued to direct the efforts. In just this one season, the elder appeared to have lived an entire decade, the bags and wrinkles on his face deep and puffy.

When it came time for him to succumb, it was not without a fight. Death had to sneak upon him in his sleep one night, the news delivered to us at the beginning of the day’s lecture.

In class that day, before the funeral, Thrawn was acting especially sluggish, which was strange for such an efficient man. Perhaps the death of Palpatine was taking its toll on him as well. The professor excused himself after the period, entrusting us alone in the laboratory. 

“Grab the tools we will need.” Thrawn whispered, going straight for the chemical cabinet.

“What the hell are you doing? Do you want to get us expelled?” I hiss, following behind him.

“You said that Palpatine himself would be checking the inventory, no?”

“Yes, I did… Damn it Thrawn, only you would find a way to turn death into opportunity.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Badgerandk for the wonderful beta and encouragement! 
> 
> I hope the time jump was not too disorienting, the next chapter will pick up right where this one leaves off.


	3. III.

Our cases full of laboratory equipment, we stroll into a tavern of all places. Supervisor Tua had been haunting the front of the dormitories, candle in one hand and kerchief in the other, wiping tears away even now at dusk. Confident that she would want to check to make sure we had no unpermitted items on our person, I suggested we make a detour elsewhere. 

A busy tavern had not been the exact elsewhere I originally had in mind, but the current of students flocking to the place was difficult to even attempt to walk against, and here we are.  Stepping up to the bar, I stowed my case between my legs, and Thrawn followed suit. Shoulder to shoulder with the other patrons, it was easy to at least blend in. 

Thrawn even dared to casually rest his hand on top of my thigh, which promptly caused me to flush, but it was just as easy to blame that on the ale I’d drank down like water. We were both run ragged and the drinks were appreciated all around. The mood in the tavern grew from somber to anxious as the sun set, no one wanting to spark any sort of revelry on such a day. Yet the suppressed energy of us students and some scattered faculty hung heavy, and eventually things took off with the crash of broken glass and universal cheer. 

I can hardly remember what brought me from a hard wooden stool to a rough brick wall, but I do recall the hot breath on my neck. The way Thrawn’s hands pushed me back, strong arms holding me steady as clever lips worked their own special alchemy, trading one fluid for another as I covered my mouth to not scream into the dark alley. Despite my best efforts, my muffled cry echoed, and Thrawn nipped at my hip to silence me. 

Next we were stumbling back onto campus, Tua long gone and the oil lamps burning low, their flickering light only interrupted by the occasional electric light streaming off the more prestigious buildings. Once again, however, we passed by our dormitory. From this point on my memory entirely fails me aside from distinctly recalling carrying two items, something larger than my case shared between Thrawn and myself. 

Then there was a scream, pain, and darkness. My head throbbed and my body ached. Opening my eyes, I found myself in the school’s medical center. 

“There you are! Wake up, you’ve got some questions to answer, gentlemen.” It was Supervisor Tua, arms crossed and blue skirts rumpled. Beside her was a police officer, blonde hair slicked back as straight as the lines of his partial beard, a neat shave just before reaching his chin. At my side, in another narrow cot, Thrawn was in a similarly confused state, chest bandaged with dots of red showing through the gauze. 

Looking down, I was in a similar state, white fabric wrapped around my arms and shoulder, creeping up my neck. 

“My name is Alexsandr Kallus, and I will begin with the obvious,” the officer began, pulling out a pad and pencil, “just what were you men doing last night?” 

“We went out for drinks.” Thrawn replied. “Nothing more.” Kallus scribbled on his little rectangle of paper as he spoke. 

“Who came with you to your dorm, then?” Kallus pressed. This had me scratching my head. 

“No one, at least I don’t think. We did drink a lot. To celebrate the life of President Palpatine,” I responded next. Kallus raised a brow to Thrawn, prying for more information. 

“I recall the same.” 

“So you don’t remember anything about your journey back to your dorm?” There was an air of sarcasm about the officer now, and seeing his situation I could understand. I’m sure this was all frustrating, perhaps even comical, considering how serious he had been treating our case. There was something he was not telling us, or perhaps he was simply amused by interviewing two graduate students after a night of assumed festivities.

“Correct.” Thrawn and I replied in unison. Had the circumstances been different, this might have made me grin. 

“Interesting. I will read for you the account of the evening I have pieced together from the witnessed I have interviewed.” Kallus flipped through his papers furiously. I worried he would rip the pages out from how carelessly he treated them. “Before retiring to bed, your dorm supervisor noticed a third man walking with you into the building. Ignoring this obvious infraction due to the nature of the day before, she did not stop you in the halls and went on with her evening. Around four o’clock in the morning, a loud scream awoke the supervisor. The sounds persisted, and they were traced to your dorm. Then, they suddenly stopped at some point between calling for an officer and my arrival. When I knocked at your door, there was no answer, so the supervisor provided a master key. Inside your rooms, we found your bodies, beaten and unconscious, knives and broken glass scattered on the floor.” 

Tua paced the space behind Kallus as he monologued, hands waving frantically as if she wanted to speak, but the officer left her no window to interrupt. Thrawn and I exchanged a short glance from the corners of our eyes. Whatever we had done last night, it sounded horrifyingly familiar to previous events. 

“Your window was wide open. A second story window, on a building without articulation or architectural elements that would permit ease of scaling. So, my conclusion is that your midnight reveler robbed and assaulted you. When you are feeling better, I would like you to take an inventory of your belongings and report any stolen articles. This will assist in apprehending the culprit.” 

“I do not believe that will be necessary.” Thrawn responded without hesitation. I was glad that one of us could find words. “Eli and myself were quite inebriated, so it is only logical to assume our companion was in a similar state. People do not act as themselves when drinking so heavily, and I am sure it was nothing personal.” 

Tua turned on her heels, clapping her hands. “I do not think you fully grasp the situation, sirs. You were found looking as if a wild beast had mauled you!” 

“What Ms. Tua means is that you very well could have been killed. Either way, there is more evidence against this person than just your situation. Before I was summoned here, there was another incident. At Temple Cemetery, the night watchman was clawed to death. Long raking marks along his…” 

“Stop. That is quite enough. The gentlemen understand what is at stake.” Tua cut in, clapping her hands again. 

“So please, the police would appreciate your cooperation.” Kallus concluded, snapping his notebook shut, a few pages hanging out haphazardly. I secretly wished that the pages recording our responses would fall to the floor so I could burn the evidence. 

For fear of eavesdroppers, Thrawn and I did not speak anything but pleasantries until the following afternoon. Alone in our dorm, which had been cleaned of blood and our stolen equipment (which Tua blessedly had not mentioned), I finally uncorked the pressurized bottle that was my thoughts and feelings. 

“We did it again, Thrawn. Drunk. And look at what it got us.” I began, holding up a newspaper detailing eight robberies and seventeen murders in a similar fashion to that of the night watchman all within the past 24 hours. “White Demon Strikes Without Mercy!” I read from a headline. “A white demon. Thrawn, that was us! We are responsible for this!” 

Thrawn stared out the window, which despite the staff’s best efforts, was hatched with scratches. He checked that the window’s lock was engaged before sitting down at his desk. “It is still alive.” 

I could not believe what I was hearing. He almost sounded pleased. “Thawn, it is an unholy abomination! What poor soul did we even stumble upon in our state.” I held my head in my hands, unable to look across at the man. As attractive as he was, inhumanity was a terrible look on anyone, souring even the sweetest wine. “We have to stop it.” 

I heard Thrawn stand back up, wooden floor creaking under his weight. His hand rested on my shoulder like a heavy jacket. I often forget just how large he is, tall and broad and just perfect. “We will, Eli.” I knew what was next on his tongue. That is was progress, but not perfection. What would he consider perfection? If a reanimated body could coherently speak, perhaps? But what if it begged to be returned to the afterlife, was in agony? 

“We have to stop this, Thrawn.” I spoke to my lap, shying away from his persistent touch--it burned like a hot coal against me. There was every reason to believe that the experiments were working, to an extent. But how far should we go? 

“No. We are so close.” 

Thrawn was not one to beg, but daring to meet his eyes, I could tell that he’d never give in. This was his life’s mission, and he’d grovel and steal and nearly anything else to make it happen.  _ Nearly  _ was the word I clung to like a lifeline. 

“Then I demand more precautions to be put in place. This is serious, and I will not permit anyone innocent to be endangered by our experiments.” 

Nodding, Thrawn stooped down. He lowered his head, and somehow I still tasted myself on his tongue. 

All night we schemed, trying to find a pattern in the houses this white demon struck. There was little rhyme or reason, though, and after a while we began talking in circles, succumbing to our own brand of insanity. Too afraid to sleep, I carded through the papers, my fingertips stained black from the ink. In the intense heat of the enclosed room, windows and doors closed for fear of our creation, we were both stripped down to just undergarments, and in his own delirium, Thrawn pressed a paper into my back. My sweat soaked skin was branded with the headline, the first and last few letters cut off and others smeared. 

Ink stains circled Thrawn’s wrists, and striped his ribs. Only when I painted his cerulean skin did I feel alive. Everything else was some strange fever dream, the white demon just my imagination and the only reality this blue angel. Everything blurred like the words on the page, predicament forgotten for pleasures. If the universe was just this one room, I think I could be happy. 

Only when the sun rose did I dare creak open the door, peeling myself away from my slumbering guardian and daring to collect the daily paper from the hall. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I turned around and right into a blue wall. 

“That is good news.” Thrawn said softly, having read enough over my shoulder. The white demon had been caught, requiring three bullets to subdue, and it was still not dead. Rather, the hunched and glossy-eyed being was currently en route to an asylum at the edge of town where it could beat itself against padded walls for as long as it liked. This didn’t settle all of my fears, and was nowhere near an optimal outcome, but at least the murders would stop. 

As I read the article more closely, I froze. The demon, who refused to speak a name and as such continued to be referred to as such, was reported to have an uncanny resemblance to the recently departed President Palpatine of Myomar University Medical School. 

“Damn it, it was not quite fresh enough.” Thrawn muttered, perhaps thinking I’d not hear him. I rubbed the bandages still on my appendages, fighting my instincts to not speak at the comment, certain he was already plotting a formula for his next solution. 


End file.
